Molly Hooper's Reputation
by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse
Summary: Dr Molly Hooper has a certain reputation at St Bart's...


Okay, the asking Sherlock for coffee in The Study in Scarlet. Her look. _That_ Molly knows what she wants. And so _this_ Molly was born...

It's M for language and naughty, suggestive things.

...

"We will begin sleeping together."

Molly frowned and her glasses slipped down her nose. She looked up from her paperwork, expecting to see someone else in the lab. Her frown deepened. No one. Not even John, slumped, his hands propping his face.

Because Sherlock could _not_ have said what she thought he said. He had to be reading out some of the more bizarre comments that plagued his blog. Ones not caught by the spam filters and John's diligence.

Playing as if she hadn't heard him correctly-which she knew was a mistake, as this _was_ Sherlock Holmes-she pushed her glasses back into place and returned her attention to her file. "Did you say something, Sherlock?"

"Molly..." _That_ tone. The one that said nothing about her was hidden from him. "You heard me perfectly well." He looked away from the slide he held up to the stark, florescent light. His ice blue eyes were sharp, narrowed. "We will begin sleeping together."

She blinked. Sherlock had said a lot of things to her over the years. Most had been hurtful,some had stolen her breath, but...this? Her body was blank of reaction. She blinked again.

"I will arrive at your flat at eight. There is no need for the usual social conventions surrounding sex." He clipped the slide under the microscope and pressed his eye to the eyepiece . "But shower well. Use your almond mousteriser."

_Sex_. Sherlock Holmes who she was convinced was gay had just said the word sex. And in relation to her. What. The. Fuck? Her pen slipped from her fingers. She pulled her glasses from her face, dropped them to the piles of paper and simply stared at him. A wild rush of...something surged through her mind and flesh. What it was she didn't know. She opened her mouth. But all that came out was, "Shower _well_?"

"If you prefer dirty, post-work sex, I will of course accomodate you, but after Mrs Wells..." His perfect lips twitched into one of his strange smiles. "She was almost this side of putrid."

Molly pushed herself to her feet, her body feeling hardly her own, as if she'd slipped into some alternate world where the world's only consulting detective had just propositioned her. And-excuse me?-'dirty, post-work sex'? Her face flushed. "Sherlock..."

He let out a slow sigh and drew back from the microscope. He turned on his stool. "You have a certain...reputation here. One that, until this afternoon, had escaped me. The Molly Hooper you present to me is not the one others see. This." He frowned and waved his hand in her general direction. "Can stop."

Sherlock was a natural at making her tongue-tied, but now he'd reached a new level and managed to remove all of her higher brain function. "I..." She frowned again. "_What_?"

"Your reputation, Molly. How many men-from this hospital-have you been out with in the last month?" "Not that many-"

"Twelve."

"Really?" Shit, had it really been twelve? With Sherlock's return-and the idiot man had scared her half to death appearing in the locker room-her own life had kick-started again. Work and men flowed. It had actually been quite nice. "And you want..." She waved her hand, feeling gauche, but putting the words Sherlock and sex together was still something that appeared only in her darkest fantasies. "Well..."

"Dear God," he muttered under his breath. "Are you as...proficent at sex as your reputation suggests? Though with your obvious inability to even _say_ the word, I begin to doubt that you are in any way-"

"I am." She straightened and gave him a short, tight smile. "I am _very_ good."

A slice of red cut across his cheeks and she didn't miss the sudden dilation of his eyes. After the fall, was he rediscovering his humanity? Did he want to explore that through her? And now that he'd heard her well-deserved reputation, was his virginity a burden?

His gaze narrowed, that little crease appearing above his nose. "I am not a virgin, Molly." A flicker of heat warmed his eyes and the riot in her flesh was quick and hot. "Imagine." His baritone dropped to the low register that made her want to rub her thighs together to ease the ache. "My mind, my...creativity, coupled with a firm body and a musician's strong hands." He lifted an eyebrow. "If known, my reputation would rival yours."

"That's what this is about? You see some sort of _rivalry_ between us?" Shit, had she suddenly become a sexual...Moriarty to him? "And you believe no one can best you." She ran a hand over her smooth hair. She couldn't quite believe it but she was in the process of turning him down. And yes, she had considered all the points he'd listed. Especially what sensual depravity his mind could conjure and the _extensive_ use of his beautiful hands. "There's no way to measure who would win at this game, Sherlock."

"The prize is my heart."

"What?" A laugh burst from her. "I thought you had that removed, prickled and jarred. It's currently in your breadbox. What use is that to me?"

"I should have propositioned you sooner. This Molly Hooper is much more interesting."

"No, Sherlock." She turned back to her paperwork, intent to tidy it away and get the fuck out of her lab. She had a date with one of the radiographers. And it was his lucky night. Because she intended to fuck him-hard.

There was no way in hell she was agreeing to Sherlock's game. And it was a game. One that would leave her in tatters. Yes, she liked sex. A lot. And yes, she was _very_ talented. But no one touched her heart. No one. Except the arrogant, resurrected man behind her. He was no doubt all too aware that he already had her under-used affections. He didn't need to stamp on her heart too when she realised _exactly_ what she was missing with him. This was Sherlock. No matter how good she was, she would never win against him. Would never win _him_ as the prize.

"How many of them do you plan to see again?"

Molly stilled, her knuckles whitening around the file she held. She closed her eyes. Bastard. He knew that about her too.

"Four? Two _Any_ of them?" Sherlock's breath was hot against her ear, his fingers skimming a slow path down her spine. She pulled in a heavy breath, damn she hadn't heard him move. His scent, something clean, masculine and simply Sherlock wrapped around her. She crushed the file to her chest. "They couldn't satisfy you, these _ordinary_ men. So eager, with fumbling, untutored hands, mouths. Dicks. I am far from ordinary, Molly Hooper. In _every_ way." His lips burned against the shell of her ear and his voice was sin itself. "Play with me."

Her eyes fluttered shut. "Why are you really doing this, Sherlock?"

"You know me." His sharp smile seared against her skin. "I really will do anything to stop being bored."

Anger churned and she whipped around. Was that all she was? A _thing_? After all that she had done, all she had sacrfriced for him- He was smirking at her. He was _taunting_ her. Double bastard. Right. She'd show him.

Molly fisted her hand in his hair and dragged his mouth down to her own.

...

Not sure when I'll next update this. But let me know what you think. :)


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